


People Don't Change

by DrownedTrying



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Gideon Gleeful, F/F, F/M, Gravity Falls Oregon, NSFW, Older Pacifica Northwest, Returning to Gravity Falls, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:12:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrownedTrying/pseuds/DrownedTrying
Summary: Seven years of rebuilding his reputation. Seven years of creating his own business. Seven years of getting over the girl he could never have.And he wasn’t happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are aged twenty and above. Work contains NSFW scenes. Read at your own risk.

Seven years of rebuilding his reputation. Seven years of creating his own business. Seven years of getting over the girl he could never have.

And he wasn’t happy.

Gideon walks through the forest, pulling his baby blue scarf over his nose. It was unusually cold for December, and if the snow and ice weren’t bad enough, the strange creatures of Gravity Falls had decided to take shelter in the townspeople’s houses and under their cars. It was a nuisance, really, but little could be done. Hell, ever since the Mystery Twins went back to California all those years ago and their great uncles away circumnavigating the globe on the _Stan O’ War,_ there was no one to protect the townspeople.

The white-blonde man sighs, turning his frosty gaze up to the gray sky. Snow continued to fall, and with a quick glance around him, Gideon finds himself in the last place he wanted to be: Bill Cipher’s stone corpse. He glares at the statue, glaring at the outstretched hand that tried so desperately to avoid being turned to stone, glaring at the large eye that once controlled him, the large eye that looked down upon so many people as if they were nothing but ants, glaring at the figure as a whole. Awful memories came to mind, memories he’d rather forget, memories that continue to show up in his nightmares each and every night. The deals, the Weirdmageddon, the heartbreak, everything. 

With a scowl, Gideon turns and walks the way he came from.

Gideon Gleeful has changed over the last seven years, and now aged twenty, he owned a rather high-end theatre where groups from all around the US would come to perform. He even performed magic tricks every now and again. It gave Gravity Falls something to look forward to, and though they hate to admit it, the townspeople were beginning to respect Gideon once more. He no longer had his hair poofed up and slicked back a foot into the air, but rather cut it, though he still slicked it back. He had grown out of his baby fat and discovered a love for swimming in the lake and hiking in the summer, and ice skating during the winter. When it was raining or too cold to be outside, he found himself doing sit ups or push ups. After years of being bullied for his weight, he finally had enough, showing the bullies how much a person could really change.

He was no longer an arrogant brat, one that always had to have the last laugh and always had something to say. He no longer wanted to show off what abilities he had. Now, Gideon was quiet and laid-back. He hardly spoke unless spoken to, worked his ass off to get his theatre where it is today but never rubbed it in anyone’s faces, and did his best to take part in taking care of his small town. Gideon believes he has changed, but for what cost?

This was all for Mabel, and she wasn’t even here to see any of it, much less cared about it. The last time he had seen the brunette was in the Battle of Weirdmageddon, where his chubby little fingers were wrapped around her slender digits. She had made it so very clear that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically, especially with everything he had done to her and her family, and he was okay with that. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

They had stayed in contact over the years, but their letters and texts and emails went from a roar, to a trickle, to nothing. Mabel’s last letter was sent well over a year ago, and even though he’s thought about it many a time since, Gideon can’t bring himself to write another. 

Sometimes, he’d rather just forget that whole summer and move on like nothing had happened.

“What’s eating you, Gleeful?” Gideon turns to see Pacifica Northwest leaning against a snow covered tree, her long blonde hair tied into a fashionable bun. He and Pacifica grew close over the years, and he can’t say he regrets it. The girl had grown into a beautiful young woman, working as a model and a fashion designer. She had to rebuild her reputation as well, something they often helped each other with. She stared at him through long, dark lashes, waiting patiently for an answer.

Pacifica knew the thoughts that circled Gideon’s mind day in and day out. She herself has the same thoughts, the same regrets. She was also plagued by the nightmares of Weirdmaggedon, often fearing that Bill Cipher will come back one day and rule Gravity Falls all over again. 

God help them all if that were to happen.

“Same old, same old,” was Gideon’s reply. He walks out of the forest and towards his manor, numb to the cold and thoughts running a mile a minute through his mind. Pacifica falls in step with him in silence.

“Have you heard from Dipper or Mabel?” she finally asks. Gideon looks at her out of the corner of his eye. He knew she had a thing for Dipper back in the day, but now, he wasn’t so sure. 

“Not since Mabel’s last letter.”

“What a shame,” Pacifica sighs. They fall into silence once more, not speaking even as they climb the steps to Gideon’s huge house. After his mom died from ulcers and his dad taking off to who knows where, Pacifica had the manor built for her friend, often staying with him so he wouldn’t feel so lonely. She could only imagine how hard it would be for Gideon to live in the house he grew up in, especially with all the memories of abusing his own parents and of the Mystery Twins.

“Are you coming to the theatre tonight?” Gideon questions as he opens his door. He sheds his winter jacket and offers to take Pacifica’s, hanging them both on the coat rack next to the door. “I’ve been asked to perform tonight.”

“If you want me to, I can,” the blonde girl replies. Gideon nods, walking to the kitchen. It was a common thing for the two to have hot chocolate after a cold day, though the cold days seemingly continue to drag on. It was a cold autumn, and now, the winter’s worse than it had been in years. Aside from hot chocolate, the two blondes would lounge around, talking, watching T.V., enjoying each other’s company, or if they were feeling lonely enough, they’d take each other on the couch or in front of the fireplace. 

It was odd to be in a relationship like this, Gideon ponders, though it often fills the void of loneliness he feels every now and then. Some days he yearns to be touched, to feel someone in a way he never dreamed, and to feel his skin burning with mere skin-on-skin contact. Other days he wants to feel loved, and though he knows Pacifica would never love him more than a friend, she makes him feel as if someone in this freezing cold world would gladly love him, would stay by him, would let him _touch_ them without feeling any remorse and would accept him, no matter what he’s done in the past. But after all of that, no matter how rough it was or how long it lasted, no matter the marks they left on the other’s body or the searing kisses that made Gideon’s head swim, they would always act as if nothing happened.

And it filled the void, until the void emptied once more. Then, and only then, would the cycle repeat itself over and over and over again. They were each other’s first, and with Lady Luck as far away from their side as possible, they’d be each other’s last.

Gideon, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, walks into the living room to find the fire blazing and Pacifica quietly reading a book on the couch. He silently sets the mugs on the coffee table in front of them, grabbing his own book off the table and opening it to the page he left off on. Gideon wasn’t really sure what was happening in the book, as he never did anymore, but it gave him something to do, even if he wasn’t really reading a single word. His eyes saw the words, but his mind never registered them, always too busy on reminiscing, thinking about his theater, or other miscellaneous thoughts. It’s been this way for seven years now.

With a sigh, Pacifica closes her book, staring at her lap. Gideon looks up from his book and watches as she reaches forward, taking hold of her mug and taking a sip. They’re silent as she sips and as he watches.

“It’s good,” she mumbles, gently licking her lips. Gideon can only watch in silence as she puts the mug back on the table. Without warning, Pacifica stands, and Gideon moves his book to the table without much thought. She climbs onto his lap with a blank look, and he knows. He knows how lonely she’s feeling, and there’s only one thing that would satisfy her need, to wash away the feeling of self hate and remorse. With this knowledge, Gideon leans forward and places his lips on her bare neck, sucking gently.

They’d have to make this quick, as he has a show in less than two hours.

* * *

Curious (E/C) eyes stare in amazement as the white haired man releases white doves into the air, a proud grin on his face. This is the best show you’ve ever been to, and though the tickets are pretty pricey, you’d love to come again.

When your grandmother’s sister, Susan, passed away, she had left you the deed to her house and the keys to a diner she owned. You personally didn’t like the name _Greasy’s Diner,_ so you were working on changing it to _Susan’s Kitchen_ in memory of your great aunt. Without much choice, and a desperate need for new scenery, you moved down to Gravity Falls, Oregon and into your great aunt’s old house. You were currently working on renovating the diner, and with any luck, it should be finished in two weeks. For now, you’ve been practicing cooking her recipes, and you _think_ you’re beginning to get the hang of it. 

With that thought in your mind, you watch as the tall man bows, his silver and blue cape swishing behind him before he disappears in a cloud of sparkly smoke. You stand and clap with the other viewers, a grin stretched from ear to ear.

Yeah, you’d definitely have to come back.

* * *

“A little to the left,” you instruct, one eye closed as you gauge the location of the new sign. The interior was almost complete, and the only thing left for the exterior is to put up the damn sign _correctly._ You almost cry when the workers _finally_ get it in the right spot. “Great! Alright, gentlemen, that’s all for today! I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” The workers all wave as you make your leave.

You didn’t really have anything else to do today, except for maybe some writing. You’re an author, and with little to no inspiration in your hometown, you decided you needed to leave, that you needed adventure. However, it was around that time when Susan passed away, and though it broke your heart, you found the opportunity you were looking for. You’re gifted in writing anything from romance, to fantasy, to action, and to thriller. It was the wonder in people’s eyes as they drank in your words that spurred you on, and after your recent publication, you were thrilled at the success. It was obvious your readers wanted more, and that’s if you went by the reviews online and from all the fan mail you’ve received. So, naturally, you’ve decided to give them more.

But for now, you need to buy some food.

The grocery store should be near, but for the life of you, you can’t find it. With a sigh, you continue your search, and within fifteen minutes, you find the blasted store and enter. 

“Damn, it’s cold,” you mutter, rubbing your frozen hands together. You weren’t expecting the winter to be so cold in Gravity Falls, as it supposedly wasn’t all that bad, according to your great aunt Susan, but you suppose that times have changed and the weather has gotten colder. Walking down the various aisles, you look for ingredients to make some homemade bacon and corn chowder. It would warm you up _and_ be delicious.

“Oh, excuse me,” a girl says, bumping into you. You turn to see a gorgeous blonde with her hair in a messy bun looking at you with a blank expression on her face. Blinking, you laugh nervously, ducking your head. Okay, so you’re not exactly as social as you want to be, but you’re working on it!

Sorta.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” you apologize. The girl continues to study you, and you do your best to continue your shopping while ignoring the feeling of her eyes on the back of your head. 

“You’re new here, aren’t you.” It wasn’t as much of a question as it is a demand, and the cold tone in her voice sends a shiver down your spine, worse than the frigid air outside had done.

“U-Uh, yeah,” you stammer, turning to look at her once more with a slightly-forced smile.

“What brings you here?” she asks. You wet your lips, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“My great aunt Susan died, and she left me the deeds to her house and diner, so I decided to move in,” you tell her. You weren’t one to lie, and although you don’t know this girl, you feel compelled to tell her the truth. The girl is silent before thrusting a hand out to you.

“Pacifica Northwest. You are?” You take her hand, noting how warm it is.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Pleased to meet you,” you muster. 

“Charmed,” Pacifica replies. She sends you a small smile, making you feel less anxious. You continue to grab the last ingredient, still chatting silently with the blonde. “Do you have a vehicle?” 

“Huh? Ah, no, I’m afraid not,” you say, holding the bags of groceries close. You can’t wait to get home and cook. Man, all you want to do is _relax._

“What a shame,” Pacifica mutters. She sends you another small smile. “Come with me. My friend and I can drive you home.” Red warning bells start going off, but your need to stay warm overrides your fear, and you find yourself nodding and following her. Pacifica leads you to a black limo parked in front of the grocery store, and you watch in awe and slight jealousy as a man in a suit opens the door for the both of you. The blonde’s bright blue eyes turn to look at you in amusement before gesturing to the open door. “You might want to hurry. It’s getting quite cold out here.”

“I’ll say,” a male voice mutters from inside the vehicle. Blinking, you scramble into the limo, only to come face to face with the magician you had seen the night before.

“Oh! I saw your show last night!” you exclaim, grinning. The white haired man looks up at you, his icy gaze studying you. He looks as blank and empty as Pacifica, and though he smiles, you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. Even the smile looks weird on him, completely unlike the grin on his face when he performed.

“You did, have you? I’m Gideon Gleeful, but I’m sure you already knew that.” You nod, buckling your seatbelt and watching with nervousness as Pacifica buckles in as well. 

“Where to, miss?” the driver asks. Pacifica shoots you a small grin.

“Lazy Susan’s place,” she replies. The driver hesitates, looking back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Ma’am, Lazy Susan died a month ago,” he informs. You suddenly find your lap to be _extremely_ interesting, though you could feel Gideon’s cold gaze on you.

“Yes, I know that. We’re giving her grandniece a ride home. Now, be a dear and begin driving,” Pacifica orders. The limo starts moving after her demand.

“So, you’re Lazy Susan’s grandniece, hm?” Gideon asks. You nod, biting your lip. Oh, how you wished you could be a brave knight speaking with the king about a quest right about now. Anything to get you to open up and express the many colorful thoughts that bubbled in your mind.

“She’s renovating _Greasy’s Diner,”_ Pacifica purrs. “What was the new name again?”

 _”Susan’s Kitchen,”_ you whisper, your cheeks hot. Here you are, inside a limo with the two most _gorgeous_ people you’ve ever seen, and you’re just sitting there with a (F/C) winter jacket and matching gray gloves and a scarf. You feel so out of place right about now.

“Interesting. When it opens up, we should visit. Isn’t that right, Pacifica?” Gideon asks, not once moving his eyes away from you. Pacifica laughs softly.

“Indeed.”

“Ma’am, we have arrived,” the driver speaks up, slowing to a stop. You’ve never been happier to see the old house more in your life than you are right now.

“Forgive me, but what’s your name?” Gideon asks. You turn, look him in the eye, and smile. 

“My name’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I hope the two of you stay warm during this cold day.” You take off a glove and reach out to shake one of Gideon’s hands, and when your hands touch, you fight a blush. His hands were so soft, yet so strong. Gideon freezes as well, staring at you with a twinge of pink dusting his cheeks. Feeling awkward, you quickly pull your hand away and climb out of the limo, damn near running inside. 

As you lock the door behind you, you could’ve sworn you heard maniacal laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

“Psst. Hey kid.”

You shift in your bed, turning over.

“Kid, hey, wake up.”

Yawning, you pull the blanket closer, enjoying the warmth as you sleep.

_”Wake up!”_

With a jolt, you sit straight up, panting as you stare into the darkness of the guest bedroom in your Aunt Susan’s old house. You don’t see anything, not even when you rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Over here,” a voice whispers, the voice off to your right.

“Who’s there?” you demand, grabbing a flashlight. You click it on and shine it where you heard the voice, but no one’s there.

“Follow me,” the same voice whispers, only this time, down the hall. Frowning, you throw the blanket off your body and follow the voice. “Down here.” Even with your flashlight, the house is too dark. You have yet to turn the electricity back on so you can save some money for the diner. Besides, you kind of like walking around in a dark, spooky house with nothing but a flashlight, lantern, or candle. It’s soothing, in a way. “Hurry.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble, sitting on the stairs to pull on your shoes. As a last second thought, you yank on your heavy winter jacket and scarf, opening the door to be greeted with a gust of wind and snow.

“This way.” With a deep breath, you walk into the pitch black darkness of Gravity Falls. Due to the snowstorm, you can barely see a thing, even though you have your flashlight with you. The already unfamiliar town was a maze to you in this weather, but you find yourself with no other choice but to follow the voice. You have a nagging feeling that if you ignored it, it would only continue to bug you until you did what it said.

Well, time to regret every action ever and get this done and over with.

* * *

“Come on.” Pushing through branches and shrubbery, you find yourself standing a few feet away from some sort of statue. It looked oddly like the pyramid on a dollar bill, only with arms, legs, a hat, and a bowtie. Or a dorito. Whichever works best, you figure.

“Why’d you bring me out here?” you yell over the howling of the wind. You heard soft laughter coming from all directions, a shiver going down your spine. “Who are you?”

“Someone that needs some help, kid,” the voice whispers in your ear. Whirling around, you find no one but trees and darkness. Whoever led you out here is toying with you, and you don’t like this at all. You’re not some hero in one of your books. Hell, you’re not brave enough to even go up against a squirrel! And that fucking says something.

“What do you want? There’s got to be a reason why you led me all the way out here!” You hear the laughter again.

“Let’s make a deal, Feather Quill. You and me, here and now,” the voice cackles. Dread overcomes you, and you turn to find the statue right in front of you. Its outstretched hand nearly stabs you in the eye, but you do your best to swallow your fear.

“What kind of deal?” you mumble, staring straight at the statue. You don’t know why, but you have a feeling it’s talking to you. Weird.

“If I give you an adventure to kill for, no, to _write_ about, you bring me back. I know why you’re in Gravity Falls, Feather Quill. So help me, and I’ll help you. You just need to get three little journals for me, and the deal is complete.” You can almost feel the intensity of the stare the statue gives you. Swallowing, you take a deep breath.

“And if I refuse?” 

“Heh, well, I guess you’ll never write another best-selling book,” it hisses. “I know that’s all you want, so go ahead and shake my hand. That’s all you need to do. Sound like a deal?” You stare at the stone hand, biting your lip. Yes, you were desperate and running out of ideas, but what could you lose? Hand shaking, you reach your hand out, knowing that this would change your life.

“De-”

 _”Get away from him!”_ You’re yanked away from the statue, landing in a foot of snow. Growling in irritation, you look up at whoever thought it was a good idea to interfere, let alone _touch_ you. Instead of some creepy old guy, you see a very pale, very _scared,_ Gideon Gleeful. His hair’s a mess, not slicked back like it was the day before, and his plain green pajamas are covered in snow, as if he’s been walking around for hours. Gideon doesn’t even give you a chance to say anything, grabbing your hand and taking off in the direction from which he came. 

The forest melted from trees and bushes into stores and houses of the sleeping Gravity Falls residents, everything covered in a foot and a half of snow. You and Gideon were the only ones crazy enough to be out in this weather, much less at this hour. Said man pulls you towards a manor, rushing to get you inside. He slams the door and locks it, staring at the silver handle.

“Where-”

“What the _fuck_ were you doing?!” Gideon snaps. You’re taken aback, eyes wide as you stare at the deranged man. The calm and collected man you had met before is entirely gone, and in his place is someone with wide, pale blue eyes, pale cheeks, despite running through snow, and a look of pure horror. “Do you have _any_ idea who that was?! What he’s done to this town?!” You shake your head, hugging yourself as you shrink backwards and away from Gideon.

“N-No,” you whisper. Gideon looks like he’s going to start yelling again, but quickly calms himself, sucking in a deep breath of air before letting it all out slowly.

“Let me try this again,” he says, much calmer this time around. “But first, I’ll make some hot chocolate. Go sit somewhere in the living room. It’s to your left.” Nodding, you walk into the room, only now noticing the disappearance of your flashlight. You must’ve dropped it while running. 

Upon entering the living room, you notice two things. One, there’s cleaning supplies next to the couch, looking recently used, for whatever reason. Two, one of the first books you’ve ever written sat quietly on the coffee table. Smiling, you walk over and pick it up, memories of writing the adventure flooding through your mind. Aunt Susan was so proud of your very first book that you had dedicated this one for her. It was about some romance between a diner owner and a rough-’n’-tumble man and how they went through Hell and high water just to be together. She had always loved those sorts of books, and you were pleased to discover she had cried when she saw who you had dedicated the book to. 

Ah, sweet ol’ bittersweet memories.

“You can sit down, you know. The couch is clean,” Gideon says from behind you. You jump, holding the book close to your chest as you turn to look at him. He’s carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, each overflowing with whipped cream. Gideon has an unamused look on his face, but sets the mugs on the coffee table.

“Don’t know why it wouldn’t be,” you retort, sitting at one end of the couch. Gideon says nothing. You put the book back on the table.

“You ever read it?” Gideon asks, changing the subject while nodding towards the book. He sits next to you, taking a sip of his warm beverage. You stifle a laugh.

“Read it? I _wrote_ it,” you reply, oddly feeling confident. Gideon nearly chokes on the hot chocolate, looking at you with wide eyes and a whipped cream moustache. Chuckling, you point to the moustache, and he licks it off with pink cheeks.

“You did? That’s… Interesting,” he mutters. You nod, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. It’s some of the best you’ve ever had. “I’ve read it a few times, and I’m trying to reread it.”

“Why? I have other books, you know.” The blonde male looks at you, the pink not leaving his cheeks.

“It’s, well, it’s just a really good book! The main characters’ personalities are well-written, it has an interesting plot, and I’m not gonna lie, but the sex scene towards the end of the book was… erm… _interesting.”_ You raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“First of all, if you’re afraid of offending me because it’s my book, don’t worry. There’s nothing you can say that would offend me about it. Secondly, _’interesting?’_ Shit, man, you make it sound like it was poorly written,” you laugh. Gideon laughs nervously, fidgeting.

“It’s not that, but, uh, to a _guy,_ it’s… It’s hard to put the book down, y’know? It’s so full of detail, and I could literally _feel_ the diner owner’s hands on me. It was so well written, I couldn’t think of anything else for a _week!_ Then one thing lead to another and, well, you know the rest,” he admits. You can’t help but burst out laughing. Gideon looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “What’s so funny?”

“I was honestly worried that it would sound stupid,” you confess. 

“Why?” Gideon takes another sip of his hot chocolate.

“Because,” you say, turning to look at him, “it’s hard to write a scene if you’ve never experienced the real thing.” Once more, Gideon nearly chokes on his hot chocolate. When he’s done coughing, he turns to stare at you, disbelief clear on his face.

“There’s no way you’re a virgin,” he deadpans. You shrug, drinking from your own mug. 

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing,” you quip. You choose to ignore the way he stares at you.

“Then how would you know what exactly to write about?” Gideon shoots back. Again, you shrug, placing the now empty mug on the table.

“When you do nothing but write and read for the majority of your life, you tend to come across some pretty steamy works. I don’t regret it, since it led me here, but I do admit that the sex scenes could be better, and with my recent books, they have been. Delicious hot chocolate, by the way,” you smirk. You meet his eyes, noting an unreadable expression on his blushing face as he stares at you in shock. He says nothing as he stares, and you begin to feel uncomfortable. “So… About that statue…” Gideon blinks, jolting as if you snapped him from a trance. You don’t know what was going through his mind, but even if you did, you wouldn’t bother prying. Hell, if someone were to invade your personal space and read every thought that ran through your mind, well, not only would you be in deep shit, but they’d probably either be sent to an asylum or have nosebleeds for days. 

“Ah, right, the statue. His name was Bill Cipher, a dream demon I had conjured back when I was twelve. It was a terrible mistake, but once he came back, he couldn’t be stopped. Back then, we had two visitors: Dipper and Mabel Pines, the Mystery Twins. They were staying with their great uncle Stan for the summer, and I had taken a liking to Mabel. I was stupid enough to believe that she would be ‘my queen,’ and I got angry that her brother broke me and her up, so I declared revenge on his whole family. Well, one thing led to another and I summoned Bill to get the deed to Stan’s Mystery Shack. He was banished, but when he came back, he released Weirdmaggedon on Gravity Falls. His intent was to take over the earth and form it to his own fucked up world, but we all stopped him. I’m not going into much detail about that, but it wasn’t easy to beat him. Long story short, he was turned into stone, and you came across his body. Speaking of which, how’d you find it, anyways?” It was your turn to stare at Gideon in disbelief. All of that over one measly statue? Holy shit.

“I dunno,” you answer. “This voice woke me up and told me to follow it, so I did. When I found the statue, the voice was going on about making a deal.”

“Don’t make a deal with him!” Gideon suddenly screams, jumping forward and grabbing your shoulders. It seems the crazy Gideon is back. “If he returns to Gravity Falls, we’re all doomed! He’ll kill everyone weak, and those deemed strong enough, he’ll use as slaves! Just stay as far away from the statue as you can, okay?” You nod, swallowing thickly. When he doesn’t say any thing else, you stand.

“Well, thanks for the hot chocolate and the warning, but I should probably get home. It’s like, one in the morning, and I have to get the diner ready.” The blonde looks up at you, his white hair falling haphazardly into his pale eyes.

“It’s too dark, too dangerous, and who knows if Bill will trick you into going to his corpse again. I have a spare room you can use,” he says, looking exhausted. You bite your lip, but see no other choice.

“Alright. Thank you, Gideon,” you whisper. He nods and stands, grabbing your book and wordlessly leads you to a guest room, turning on the light. 

“If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.” Gideon disappears down the hall with your book tight in his grasp. You watch him leave before walking into the room and closing the door. The room was pretty chilly, so you decide to keep your jacket on as you slip under the covers. Once the light is off, you get comfortable, your eyes slowly drifting close as you stare into the darkness. It takes you a good fifteen minutes to finally get to the sleeping stage.

However, you find it a bit hard to sleep when all you hear is Gideon’s muffled cries of ecstasy from down the hall.


	3. A/N

Hey guys! Very long time, no see! I apologize about that. However, I come bearing news. I opened up a Discord server specifically for my fics, so feel free to join! We're cool, I swear. 

https://discord.gg/7HePKmV

See you there!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a comment, kudo, bookmark, and subscribe!


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